Pierce's Tale A Left 4 Dead Fanfiction
by Kuro Majiyo
Summary: Left alone in Fairfield, with no way out and no hope, what will one man do for revenge on the infected?
1. Prologue

**Pierce's Tale**

A Left 4 Dead Fan Fiction

_-14 days, Post Outbreak-_

Pierce watched the chopper leave the hospital roof from the building opposite. His last salvation, his last hope, and it left without him. He had fought his way through hell, and lost friends to those animals, and he had been left behind. This was it. This had been the final day that the CEDA was evacuating people. He was marooned in his little hole up point. It had been one of the saferooms left by the military, before they had been overrun. He could say he was happy for the lucky bastards who escaped, but that would have been a lie. He was alone, in a hell that Dante could only dream of. A man with nothing to lose. It's funny how a man with nothing to lose can be more dangerous then anything in the world.


	2. Chapter 1

**-15 days Post Outbreak**

**Morning.**_** The sun showed through the grates in the security door. Pierce had spent the night without sleep, watching, always watching, the door, a shotgun nestled in his lap. He had looted a police cruiser yesterday, and found it in the trunk. He had fired the first shot at the former occupant of the vehicle.**_

_**Pierce was young, mid twenties, with a thin semi-athletic body that came from jogging a mile each morning to his college. His skin and hair showed his Irish heritage, and his eyes were a corpse blue, hardened by what they had seen in the last week. A small scar crossed his nose, from a nasty infected that had slashed him when he tried to save Jim from said creature. It had ripped him to shreds, then ran off, crying like it still was human. Pierce stiffened from the memory of that cry, a sirens song, a trap to any well meaning human being. He wore denim jeans, a hoodie, black in color, over a "I 3 Looting" T-Shirt. He had thought it funny when he wore it that first day. Now he only wore it because it was all he had brought.**_

"_**Well, time to go." Pierce said to the wall. He put his shotgun on it's "leash", put it in the little holster draped on his back, and opened the door. The building he was in had been an apartment complex. Some of the infected, who had lived here when they were humans and not beasts, still remained here. When Pierce had holed up in the room, he had been chased by an entire horde. Most of the infected had been drawn away by the following helicopter escape, but a few remained, sure there was prey about. They were right.**_

_**The first one he saw that morning was balding, an older man, probably had been an office worker. This image was stained by the dried blood on his face and the glowing dead eyes shared by the infected. He had been lying down, but he was turning when a .357 magnum round impacted his spinal cord, severing it at the base of the neck, and sending a red mist everywhere. Another one, hearing the noise, spun towards it's source and was quickly rewarded with a bullet right between the eyes. Rushing in from another room, two more met similar fates, when one bullet flew through both of their brain cages.**_

_**When the revolver ran out of ammunition, Pierce threw it into another zombies face. He had no more bullets for the thing, and it took forever to reload it besides. Pulling a kitchen knife from his belt, he sliced aforementioned zombie's throat. The knife had been bought off of a cooking T.V. show after Pierce had watched the chef cut a steak with a single slice. Two years later, and Pierce now wanted to kiss whoever had made it. Or at least, he would if he had time to think of such things. "How do you like that you sons of bitches!" he shouted. He pulled a pistol, a Glock 17 he had taken off of a dead police officer. The gun had a little flashlight and laser sight, and he had a lot more ammunition for it. The gun flashed twice, and two more of the infected were dead.**_

_**Running for the staircase, Pierce fired at anything that looked funny at him. Fifteen bullets, one clip change, and four more shots, and the staircase was empty. Grunting, he walked down the stairs, closing every door he passed. He had to move quickly, else the horde would come. Fairfield was a dangerous place, and no man was truly safe now. Not even those lucky bastards who had escaped. The infection had surely spread beyond the city limits, possibly all the way to the surrounding counties.**_

_**The building lobby was full of infected. Luckily, it was just the horde. Pierce stabbed a surprised infected in the neck. The thing gurgled as the blade was withdrawn from it's throat. Pierce quietly put it down on the floor, before slicing another unsuspecting one. He repeated this three more times before the infected caught on. A growl that anyone who was still alive would recognize rang out, and turning, Pierce saw, an instant to late, that a hunter was jumping at him. As the thing scratched at his chest, he howled. "FUCK YOU!! YOU FUCKING FUCKHOLE!!!!." Pierce yelled, stabbing the hunter with his left hand, where he held his knife. **_

_**His other hand now free, he proceeded to empty a clip into the hunter's jaw. Pulling himself up, he reloaded his gun, and with all pretense of stealth gone, began firing left and right. The twenty or so infected found themselves full of bullets. About a minute later, the room was covered with blood and corpses. Pierce stood, a strange fire in his eyes as he looked around. One of the infected, not yet dead but incapacitated, growled at the only upright being in the room. It looked like it had been a teenager, wearing a T-shirt with a metal band logo and jeans, but now it was only a mindless killing machine. No mercy showed in the eyes of Pierce, and he walked over to it, chambering the last round of his gun. He shot the thing in the head, splattering it's brains onto the red carpeted floor. Walking to the door, he opened it up and walked into the sunlight.**_


	3. Chapter 2

-15 days post Outbreak-

The day showed a different side to the infection. The infected stuck to the shade, as their sense of sight was geared to night vision. A couple infected were on the street, keeping their eyes low to the ground, away from the wretched sun. Pierce obliged them with a bullet, one for each through the hypothalamus. All he had to do was keep moving, and he'd be fine.

Limping from a bite wound sustained earlier, Pierce moved south along the road. His map showed that the street eventually led to a military checkpoint, before the city had gone to hell. He had no doubt the area was overrun, but perhaps he could scavenge weapons, plus it was on the way to the mountains, where his uncle had a cabin. Relative safety to this hellhole.

Pierce now had a dilemma. A car pile-up was ahead. That meant some alarms were probably still active. He could detour, and risk another closed in area which may or may not lead around it, or he could carefully try to go through the danger zone. _I can't afford a detour, not now_ Pierce thought to himself.

Taking a deep breath, Pierce pulled out his shotgun. He gingerly made his way past the cars, a few of which still had active alarms, merely being abandoned instead of actually crashing. He bounded up on top of one car, and jumped to the next, which was obviously the epicenter of the crash. He then got onto the hood of a semi which had an infected driver, trapped by it's seatbelt and snarling at him until Pierce put a shotgun shell in between it's eyes, causing it to explode into red mist.

Climbing on top of the semi's trailer to get his bearings, he heard the sound that spelled doom to those that didn't know enough to stay away. _Witch, and close too._ Pierce thought to himself. Witches only hunted during the day, singing a requiem for those who she lured in with her siren's song. He replaced the one slug in his shotgun. _This is gonna suck._

He saw her before she spotted him. She seemed in a trance, like a sleep walker, singing her song. She then walked towards the semi, oblivious to his location. He heard the growl of her finally noticing him, and decided to take action.

Yelling at the top of his lungs, he jumped from the top of the semi, firing his shotgun at the witch's face, before landing on her. The Witch, now pinned by the Pierce's knees, struggled to knock him off, but her petite frame worked againsth her. "Turned the tables, haven't I, BITCH!!!" he shouted in her face as he fired slug after slug into the witch's cranium, until the gun was empty, and the witch finished her final song.

Smirking, Pierce whistled, feeling elated for the first time in days. He dropped the shotgun, and pulled his pistol. He needed to get to the blockade to steal a new gun. Sighing, he trodded on, Left Alone within the doomed city. He still had an objective to reach.


	4. Chapter 3

_-15 Days Post-Outbreak-_

To describe the military checkpoint as "Trashed" would be an understatement. Flipped vehicles, bodies torn to shreds, areas still burning when a fuel truck driver succumbed to the virus and crashed into a Quonset hut that had been set up as the military base of operations.

When the military had first arrived during the first week, they quarantined the city, setting up checkpoints like these near the main roads. They also fenced in those roads. However, by the 8th day, the military forces proved no more immune then the rest of the people in the city. CEDA workers attempted to issue HAZMAT suits, but it was too late. On the 10th day, military had new orders, clear out. Anyone left was left alone, in the dying city, as it collapsed upon itself. By then, anyone who was smart was barricaded in their own home, or had already left. Not that it mattered. Everyone was dead, either way.

Pierce reached the military checkpoint, without much issue. The horde was still quiet, most of them staying hidden, waiting for the sounds of dinner bells ringing. Pierce walked, still limping from his earlier injuries. He'd run out of bullets for the shotgun, and was down to five magazines of 9 mm ammo. After that, he'd be down to his knife and his wits, which were hardly about at all now.

To tell the truth, Pierce was running on adrenaline and pain pills. His face was scratched up, his clothes in stitches, and dark circles formed under his eyes, from no sleep for three days. He rubbed his rib, where the hunter had lacerated his skin, and then felt his leg twinge from where the witch had dug her claws into him. Basically, his attention was else where when a shot fired from one of the huts, towards HIM.

Ducking behind a trashcan, Pierce grew angry. He would not die from some son-of-a-bitch asshole who felt a little trigger happy. He pulled his pistol, and leaning on the can to steady his shot, fired a single round at the building's door. Hearing the yell of pain from inside, he rushed the building.

The man before him was thin, muscular, and had the buzz cut that screamed military, if that were not obvious from his BDU or the M-16 in his hands. The man was cradling his shoulder, applying pressure to the wound while moaning in pain. Upon seeing Pierce burst through the doorway, the man pointed his gun at Pierce.

The two men stood their, in a true Mexican stand off. If either fired, the resulting death would kill the other when the other's hand went into a death grip on the pistol. Finally, something else chose what they would do next. The Tank approached, and fast too.

The first sign was the unmistakable roar. Pierce turned, and saw the beast. What had once had probably been a handsome man, now was a killing machine. Like a human who had swallowed a bottle of steroids every ten minutes, the Tank was a muscle bound monstrosity who could withstand almost anything thrown at them. Momentarily forgetting their fight, both men unanimously opened fire on the thing.

The Tank lived up to it's metal namesake. It's lower jaw was stuck to the huge chest that would make a Mister Universe contestant jealous. Running like a gorilla, it failed to notice the bullets impacting it, and also like a gorilla, it ignored the bullets which entered the wet matter of it's brain. A fully grown mountain gorilla could survive thirty minutes with a bullet in the brain. The tank could survive almost indefinately, until it died of blood loss, or if it lost coordination and fell off of a high building. Pity both the soldier and the survivor were both on the ground really.

Too dumb to know it was supposed to be dead from shots like that, the beast charged the two men, pressing forward still, it's mighty footsteps shaking the ground like an earthquake, pushing aside cars and lamposts in it's way. It blindly charged the man with the assault rifle, and thus ignored Pierce as he circled around it, still firing, while the soldier fired, in spite of his wound, slowing the lumbering beast in it's charge.

Pierce then did something that was either brilliant or stupid. While the tank was distracted by the M-16, Pierce jumped on the thing's back. He proceeded to empty a clip into it's tough skull, and then pulled his trusty knife, and, while avoiding the mad berserker's attempts to get him off of it's back, plunged the knife into it's neck, Shadow of the Colossus style. Blood spirted from the Tank, and it's eyes widened for a second, as it finally managed to grab Pierce.

With the brain stem of the creature severed from the rest of the body, the thing simply fell over. It finally died, and in the nick of time too. Pierce counted his bullets. He was down to his last clip. The Tank had a grip on his arm, though that had loosened when the beast died. Overall, it was luck that won the day.

Walking over to the soldier, he put out his hand. "I'm Pierce." he said, weary from his wounds. The soldier, likewise, took his hand and shook it. "Private Louis Gibson, United States Army, formerly on loan to the CEDA. At least, until my unit was left by those bastards." Both men nodded, before they locked the door to the hut.

Pierce's trek alone was over. Now both men would start their last escape.

-_TBC_

_Hi, I know this is my first time talking after a story, but I really could use some reviews. I need to know what I am doing wrong, so I can fix it for you people, and everyone is happy. And yes, Pierce just killed a tank by stabbing it with a three inch knife. I liked _Shadow of the Collossus, _and I figured I'd throw it in there, as my original idea seemed to farfetched. It involved Pierce soloing a tank on a rooftop, and spraying paint into it's eyes._


End file.
